


you brought the flood

by sungyeowl



Series: lost in today and the past; lost in the future we had [6]
Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M, Tumblr Prompt, and it's minewt i promise, it's about valentine's day i know i'm late but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 11:42:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3445844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sungyeowl/pseuds/sungyeowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>“What’s that?” Minho asks eventually, the card weirdly heavy in his hands.</p>
<p>“A valentine, obviously,” Newt says, still bemused, peering over his shoulder. “From a secret admirer, I’d bet.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	you brought the flood

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr prompt: 39. _secret admirer_ for Minewt : D

Minho has always said that Valentine’s Day was a completely pointless and utterly disgusting holiday. He couldn’t grasp the concept of it –  what was so special about it? Why would people go all crazy and lovey-dovey in this specific day? Couldn’t they say they loved each other for the rest of the year, too? He’s no specialist in the matter of relationships, but Minho has always thought that’s what they are supposed to be about – showing affection or whatever. Without needing a specific date for it.

And that’s probably why Newt mocks him when during recess on February the thirteenth Minho finds a card in his locker.

It’s simple – a creamy coloured, rugged, rectangular and bent in half piece of thick paper, with a poorly drawn heart and a date and an hour with the name of – a restaurant? a pub? – written inside. Nothing fancy and obviously handmade – the weirdest part, though, is that it’s addressed for him. There’s a ‘for Minho’ written near the right low corner on the outer side, so it can’t possibly be a mistake, as there are no other Minhos attending their school as far as he knows.

“What’s that?” Minho asks eventually, the card weirdly heavy in his hands.

“A valentine, obviously,” Newt says, still bemused, peering over his shoulder. “From a secret admirer, I’d bet.”

“Yeah,” Minho murmurs, eyes sliding over the card. He doesn’t recognize the handwriting – there’s no clue who could possibly give it to him. He also can’t remember anyone flirting – or trying to – with him recently, so how could there be someone with a crush on him? They would probably hint at it earlier, wouldn’t they? It’s not like he’s popular or anything. A regular student, with no desire to find himself a girlfriend or a boyfriend whatsoever. He doesn’t have a particular desire to date anyone – he is, for now, content with his unsurprising school life _and_ boring social life that consists mostly of him hanging out with Newt. So the confusion is so strong that it replaces the resentment that Minho would usually feel for anyone thinking he likes that stupid, commercial holiday Valentine’s Day is. “But… why?”

“A better question, mate, would be,” Newt drawls lazily, clapping Minho on the shoulder. “ _Who_. I Say you should go and find out, no?”

And that does it, really – Newt’s more-or-less encouragement (and the prospect of him mocking Minho for the rest of his life if the Asian didn’t even try to find out who gave him the card) paired up with Minho’s growing curiosity leads him in front of a small, secluded pub the next day.

 

It’s not expensive, not by the looks of it – it looks cheap enough for Minho or for any other high school student to consider visiting it, really, so he guesses that’s fine? Probably? At least he won’t feel out of place, too underdressed.

Minho snorts at himself, gripping his clammy hands on the sleeves of his jacket. He feels out of place already. What is he even doing? It’s probably a joke, that’s what it is. Someone messing with him, giving him a stupid card probably not to show up. And why does he even care? He doesn’t even know if that’s a girl or a boy – it could be a fucking alien for what Minho knows (which is nothing).

And yet here he is, nervous, in his usual jeans and sneakers (because when google told him it would be a pub where he was supposed to go, he didn’t even try to think of a more elegant outfit) huddled in his worn jacket, with no flowers or chocolates or whatever you’re supposed to bring for your date. Someone asked  _Minho_  out, not the other way around, so – after texting Newt for advice – Minho decided not to bring anything, especially since he didn’t know who he would be meeting (if it weren’t a stupid and immature prank, that is. Which it probably was, either way.).

“Here we go,” he mumbles to himself eventually and enters the pub.

It’s not crowded, that’s for sure – a few people scattered around the tables. Minho looks around, searching for anyone who could, in turn, be searching for  _him –_ but no one inside seems to be waiting for anyone, so Minho orders a coke and sits at a vacant table.

He’s ten minutes earlier, so Minho supposes he’ll wait for twenty or so more and then leave if no one appears. Which they won’t, he suspects as the minutes pass, confirming his belief that someone fooled him.

_Why did I agree to this?_  the question bounces around Minho’s head when his glass is empty as well as the other chair at his table. There’s a mingle of emotions growing inside of him and Minho finds out with disdain that he feels the slightest trace of disappointment.

Frustrated, heaving out a long sigh, the boy is ready to stand up when someone finally  _sits_ down in front of him.

“Hi,” Minho hears a familiar voice before he even has a chance to lift his head up.

“Newt?” he asks, knitting his brows together, startled for a second. But then he smiles involuntarily, because that’s the kind of a best friend Newt is – of course he would linger somewhere near, not letting Minho feel mocked if no one showed up. Which they didn’t, obviously.

“What’s up?” Newt smiles back, leaning back in his chair.

“Some klunk, obviously,” Minho tries to sound indifferent, shrugging his shoulders; which is stupid, because Newt will see right through him. “They didn’t show up.”

“Didn’t they?” Newt’s eyebrows raise up, hiding under his bangs. “Then what am I doing here?”

“They didn- wait,” Minho cuts himself off, eyes going wide. Newt just stares back at him, a sly smirk gracing his face. “Are you saying-“

“That I’m the one who changed the handwriting and gave you the card? That would be the case, yes,” Newt replies smugly, obviously sneering at him now. Minho’s head about to explode but he still finds strength to lean over the table and punch the blonde in the shoulder, hard.

“Why?” Minho asks only, retreating his hand and starting a desperate battle with a flush creeping up his neck.

“I wanted to mess with you,” Newt says at first, but Minho waits patiently, knowing instinctively that is not what his friend would do, never. There’s got to be something more to it. “But then I also wanted to ask you out for some time already and didn’t know how. Figured it would work.” 

“You could have just asked without setting up this whole thing, you know,” Minho shakes his head. That’s most definitely not what he expected to happen, not in a million years. Newt’s smart and funny and snarky and kind, and they’re great friends and Minho has admired him since the first time they met, but he had never thought about Newt being the perfect boyfriend material-

Oh.

“Didn’t want to risk scaring you off,” Newt shrugs but his eyes wander downwards for a split second and that’s when Minho notices that the blonde boy is actually  _nervous_. Wow. “But I can’t wait forever. So what do you say? Could we try?”

“Dating?”

There’s a mere nod coming from Newt as he reaches out and grabs Minho’s hand, prying his fingers off of the empty glass he’s been holding up to this point. Minho notices, surprised, that when Newt intertwines their fingers carefully, it doesn’t feel awkward or forced or wrong. It’s warm and kind of nice, and Newt’s eyes seem to sparkle when he agrees eventually, smiling broadly.


End file.
